


Cecilia and Aning

by inkwellAnomaly



Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: Flashbacks, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2019-11-04 17:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwellAnomaly/pseuds/inkwellAnomaly
Summary: Little Cecilia asks the old poet of the town to tell her a story.





	1. Chapter 1

After school - at least, a semblance of school, with the soldiers as teachers and their classes being held under a tent - Cecilia dashed through the cogon fields surrounding the town square of Pili. The afternoon sun was hot on her skin, and she looked up at the cloudless sky to ascertain that it is a long ways before sunset. With any luck, Ka Aning should still be awake.

Ka Aning was the town’s poet, a crowned makata, a relic from the past. In his youth, Cecilia’s Lolo Cecilio would tell her, Aning was famed among the townspeople for his way with words. He had written many books, which Cecilia struggled to read - Aning’s poems were always about a lost love, a lost friend, a lost country; the little girl didn’t know what they meant. She wondered, what was it like to lose someone? And so, she dashed through the fields, hoping to ask Ka Aning to tell her a story from the past, from before the Americans came.

Isagani was getting old. His hair had turned white, his vision was blurred; however, his mind stayed sharp. He could recite any verse from the poets of old, tell a story from any point in his life (although he always just told the one about how his friend Tadeo had been chased by an enraged goat, for that was the funniest). He heard a knock at his door, and found a little girl waiting for him. She bore her mother’s eyes and her grandmother’s name - two people Isagani had, in the end, failed to save.

“What do you need, hija?”

Cecilia tugged on his sleeve, and led him to his own sala, where they both sat down.

“I want you to tell me a story,” she began. “About this town.”

* * *

 Isagani looked, dumbfounded, on the man standing before him. He was no stranger, and yet he looked so different. Basilio’s face was gaunt, his eyes sunken, his glasses, lopsided. As they stood there in the middle of the tribunal office, Isagani blinked, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. Perhaps it was a trick of the mind? Or maybe, just maybe, God had the mercy to bring back someone he had lost?

“My friend,” Isagani said. “What are you doing here?”

“I just… came here to pick up some documents for Dr. Lopez. He said to look for the clerk Isagani at the tribunal. I didn’t know it was you.”

The two embraced, and Isagani could feel the fatigue in Basilio’s body. He was so, so tired. Basilio seemed to relax in his arms, probably the first time in a long while. Isagani collected the documents Basilio needed and went out the door with him. The sky was aflame with the colors of the sunset.

“Come, let us walk. I was just going to visit my uncle. Tell me, where have you been these past two years?”

“I’ve been traveling around as a doctor. Although I never finished school, the people still value me for the treatments and prescriptions I give. They pay me with food and lodging, and so I’m grateful for that.”

“But how did you end up here?”

“One of the townspeople told me that a doctor here was looking for an assistant. I thought it would be good to settle somewhere permanent, so I went here. Dr. Lopez was very thankful that I came along.”

Isagani nodded. Basilio had returned to his old self, and it felt like no time had passed. Their conversation was casual, as if it was two years ago and they were walking along the streets of Manila after class, filling each other in on what had transpired while they were apart. It was a harmonious friendship, and Isagani, after that fateful night, often recalled with great regret.

“So are you staying?” Isagani asked.

“Yes, I suppose so. Anyway, it’s getting dark, so I think I’ll return home. Dr. Lopez is letting me stay with him,” Basilio explained.

The two amiably parted ways. There was still much to talk about.

* * *

 “And what of my grandmother?” Cecilia asked. “How did you know her?”

Ka Aning looked at her with sad eyes. He explained how he had met her through his work as a tribunal clerk, and they had quickly become friends. On the days when she was let out early by her tutor, she would come visit him at the tribunal office, on the pretext of visiting her father, the gobernadorcillo Capitan Panchong.

She was a sweet girl, Ka Aning noted. She married the son of her father’s rival, Silvino - a Spanish mestizo. Soon after she birthed their daughter, who looked like her, but not her father! Had it not been for her brother Cecilio dispelling the rumors, the town would have surely believed that the daughter was not Silvino’s. No one could say it directly, but they all felt that the girl was the daughter of Padre Agaton, the parish priest. It was obvious that he was in love with Cecilia, and the two, according to the parish cook Menang, would often meet for confession, probably through the priest’s own will. There was no one in Pili who went against Padre Agaton, especially not Capitan Panchong, who needed his endorsement for the elections.

“So you and Dr. Basilio were friends?”

“Yes, we were.” Ka Aning said. “Very dear friends. We knew each other since we were students.”

“What happened, then?” little Cecilia asked. “How did Dr. Basilio die?”


	2. Chapter 2

The two made their way to the town’s cemetery, with Ka Aning ambling along as Cecilia merrily skipped a few paces ahead of him. The sun was still high in the sky, and most of the people in town had retired to their homes for an afternoon _siesta_. Eventually, Ceclia and Ka Aning reached a modest grave in the middle of the cemetery, well-kept and with fresh flowers. The person buried there, although long gone, was certainly not forgotten. When he was alive, Dr. Basilio was a figure well-loved by the townspeople, known for his effective cures and prescriptions. Had he not reached his end the way he did, he probably would have been given a grand burial site.

“So this is where Dr. Basilio is buried?” Cecilia asked. Ka Aning nodded to confirm the fact.

Cecilia thought back to her own grandmother, who had passed long before she was born. Nicknamed the Pearl of Pili, she was a sophisticated woman, always elegant and proper. Having inherited the vast fortune of her aunt, Capitana Cecilia was a model of grace and virtue, such that her death was mourned by the people of Pili. To be struck by illness so soon after bearing her daughter Romina, both her family and the town were wrapped with grief. Her husband Capitan Silvino never remarried.

Cecilia wondered what it was like to lose someone. She never knew her mother, only hearing stories about her. Doña Minang was a feisty woman, eloquent and unbending. She never lost an argument, especially not to a man. But despite her intensity, she was also kind - Cecilia’s father Protacio would always recall with fondness her mother’s fiery spirit. It didn’t feel the same, though. It didn’t count, Cecilia thought. You couldn’t lose someone you never knew.

“It was many years ago, right?” Cecilia asked Ka Aning, who seemed lost in thought as he stared at his friend’s grave. “There was a revolt in town, my father told me. Can you tell me that story?”

Ka Aning, although reluctant to remember that night, drew it forth from his memory. It was the night Basilio died. It was the night that he lost his closest friend. He was getting old, his heart weighed down by the story. Perhaps passing it on would lighten his burden? How selfish of a sentiment, for him to give it to a young girl such as Cecilia. And yet, Ka Aning thought, perhaps she was stronger than she seemed. At the very least, she was interested in knowing about what happened.

* * *

Matanglawin’s bandits had struck. Isagani rushed into Dr. Lopez’ old clinic, amidst the gunfire and smoke. He had pieced it together, and although he refused to believe it, he wanted to prevent the consequences if it was true. Basilio was behind the revolt currently taking place. He had seen him sneaking out at night, going off into the woods. If only he had confronted him sooner!

“Basilio!” he shouted, bursting in. “The _guardia civil_ are on their way! They’re going to arrest you; we have to flee, now!”

Dr. Lopez had left town a few months ago after having gotten his much-coveted government position. Basilio was the only one there now, having established a decent practice as Pili’s town doctor. As Isagani searched the house, he found Basilio alone in his upstairs room, watching the chaos unfold from the window.

“Isagani,” he said, dumbfounded that his friend had come for him. “What are you doing here?”

  
“Getting you to safety, you fool! Let’s get out of here! Capitana Cecilia warned me that the _guardia civil_ were going to arrest whoever they thought was behind this. Oh, my friend, what could ever push you to do such a thing?”

“So you’ve figured it out,” Basilio began. “I had… I had thought that this was right. I’d lost everything to these priests, and I had thought that taking my anger out on this town’s priest would do good. But now I see the error of my ways, my friend! I put these people, whom I’ve cured and loved, in danger! I put your uncle in danger, I’ve put you in danger as well! I was angry, and I failed to consider the consequences. So let them take me now, Isagani, and throw me into prison. Let fate take its course.”

“No, I refuse! Basilio, please, let’s get out of here! We can change our names, move to a new town, and live there as brothers! Please, we can have another chance!”

“I’m sorry, Isagani,” Basilio said as he got up from his chair. “But I have to answer to what I have done.”

The rest happened so quickly, and yet Isagani vividly remembered all of it. The _guardia civil_ came, and when they had made to arrest Basilio, Isagani threw himself at them, desperate to stop them from taking his friend. A struggle followed.

“Isagani, don’t! Isaga--”

A single gunshot. Everything following that, Isagani noted, was a deafening silence. His friend fell on the spot, and just like that, he had lost the person he had cared for most in the world. 

* * *

 

Cecilia was in tears by the time Ka Aning had finished his story. He wiped her tears, telling her that he’d bring her back home and they could have a nice merienda. She wept over their friendship, having regretted wanting to know what it was like to lose someone. Cecilia had a heart that beat for others, and right now it was overwhelmed with the sadness resting inside Ka Aning.

“I have something for you,” Ka Aning said.

He pressed something cold and metal into Cecilia’s hands. It was an emerald and diamond locket that, Isagani explained, had caused a great deal of chaos for those whose hands it had been passed into. But it was also something Basilio treasured, and the final reminder of his friend. Cecilia was honored to receive it.

“What about you, then?” she asked. “This is your last memory of Dr. Basilio. Won’t you be sad?”

“My child, memories are jewels to be shared, not hoarded. I am happy to give it to you. They’re unlike most things - if I gave you a piece of fruit, then I’d have less of it for myself. But memories and stories, ah… The more you give, the more you have of them.”

Cecilia pondered his paradoxical remark, but decided that that thought was for another time. The two, a young girl and an old man, walked hand in hand back to the town square, as the blooming _calachuchi_ trees that decorated the cemetery scattered their petals on the ground on which they walked.


End file.
